Miss Understood
by Kiwisaurus
Summary: AU. Etta is a mean, green, fighting mac- oops no she isn't, she's a slave in the Dursley household. My mistake. Etta is a mean, short, fighting 11 year old girl who's about to have the Dursley way of life flipped our of her life and the Girl-Who-Lived life flipped in. A prepubescent girl, destined to save the Wizarding World ... who's idea was this!


**Disclaimer – I don't own anything you recognise except Etta and the added parts to the plot!**

With a scowl, a young girl of about 10 viciously yanked weeds out of her Aunts' flower bed, the less than well thought-out action rewarding her with a face full of dirt and half a mangled weed; the other half still stubbornly planted among the flowers. Feeling like screaming, she dug her fingers in the dirt surrounding the destroyed weed and dug into the ground, slowly extracting small pieces of the frustrating weed from the damp ground. It shouldn't be this hard to pull out a weed, should it? She had even dampened the ground so that the weeds would pop right out, no sweat, no stress, no bruises. Perhaps it thought it belonged among the flowers. But because of the weeds stupid mindset, she was now going to be yelled at by her _darling_ Aunt, Petunia.

"Etta! Do you want anything to eat tonight?" Speak of the devil, and she may appear. Although the yelled threat had been phrased as a question, Etta knew it was anything but. She wiped a wad of wet soil off her face with the back of her hand and turned slightly towards her aunt, dirt strewn across her left check. Only the crazy cat lady down the road didn't know about Petunia's aversion to dirt.

"Yes please, Aunt Petunia. I'll finish up here and clean myself up. Do you want any help?" She tugged at her roughly cut black hair with a simpering smile, pausing when she saw the screwed-up expression Aunt Petunia was currently sporting.

"No." The answer was sharp. Spotting a neighbour slyly peeking over the fence, she added quickly with a forced smile. "You know how you are with cooking, Etta. How about you finish with the garden now, clean yourself up, and come inside to set the table?"

Etta jumped up quickly and shook her hands over the lawn, small bits of dirt flying off her fingers and landing on the pristine green lawn that her Uncle Vernon had mowed yesterday. She smiled slightly, before dutifully walking over to her Aunt; who looked as if she had swallowed a lemon at her actions. As Etta neared the open front door, Aunt Petunia bent down with a hidden sneer on her face. Etta had lived with the Dursley's long enough to know when her Aunt and Uncle were upset with her, that is to say, all the time.

"Go get a face washer and wipe off that ghastly dirt. It's all over you, and I'm tired of seeing mud on my floor."

_Your floor that I'm always cleaning, you mean?_ Etta thought to herself, but instead of speaking, she nodded once; the hands clasped in front of her fidgeting. She went to climb the one step leading into the house when a bony hand roughly grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back. "Shoes off before you go in. Clean them and then bring them back out here. If I see one spot of mud in my bathroom, girl, so help me..."

And with a rough shove, Etta was nearly left sprawled in the hallway. Luckily, her Aunt had pulled this trick many times before and Etta had a very good sense of balance, nimbly stretching her leg out a little further and merely tripping a little; making Aunt Petunia scowl angrily at her back as she disappeared into the bathroom.

Quickly cleaning herself and her shoes, she rushed into the kitchen and started making spaghetti Bologna; adding the extra herbs that she had picked from the neighbour's garden a week before. Giving it a quick stir before letting it simmer, she grabbed the crockery and cutlery and placed them on table, thinking ahead by grabbing a fistful of napkins and arranging them neatly in the middle of the table.

Just as she was beginning to serve the dishes of spaghetti, there were the tell-tale thumps of her less than thin relatives tromping down the stairs. Her relations, as calling them 'family' may very well be a tie for the biggest stretch of the house, (the other candidates being the pants her Uncle Vernon, and cousin Dudley wore) called down the stairs, making a fuss about eating Spaghetti Bologna again, for the third time in weeks.

"The last time we had this was a month ago," Etta grumbled under her breath, inwardly hoping her aunt wasn't close enough to catch this 'blatantly disrespectful outburst.'

Dudley was the first in the room, and the first thing he did when he saw Etta standing over the table was shriek loudly, "She spat in my food! Mum! Mum, she _spat_ in my food!"

"I did not!" Etta cried as her hard-faced Aunt and glaring Uncle entered the room, the former standing angrily over Etta with her hands on her hips, the latter's chins furiously jiggling as his face darkened into a worrying puce colour.

"Enough." Aunt Petunia hissed at her, tiny flecks of spit flying out from her clenched teeth and landing scarily close to Etta's open mouth. Despite the tense atmosphere, she closed her mouth and pulled her lips together tightly. Just in case. P'etunia's lips seemed to be pursed even more at the small movement, but after a second growled. "Get _out_ of my kitchen."

With wide eyes, Etta backed out of the kitchen. She held her hands palms forward, next to her face as she went, a small frown playing on her lips. A large, beefy hand clasped her shoulder tightly, yanking Etta back roughly. She was spun around to face the puce coloured face of her Uncle.

He was furious.

"If-if... SPIT- food, Dudley-again-NO... FOOD - CUPBOARD, NOW!" Came the less than eloquent scream. Etta bolted down the hallway away from her furious uncle, his flab and fat jiggling and waving around madly as he wobbled down the hallway after her.

Etta dived into her cupboard mere seconds before the door slammed shut, and the tell-tale click and screech of the lock sliding into place followed. An unintelligible growl and hiss came after that. Shortly after, the odd sounds were followed by the floor-shaking rumbles of her Uncle stomping away. Etta's shoulders relaxed as the monster known as Vernon retreated and she rolled them carefully, sore from the weeding and cooking.

She had been lucky that he hadn't smacked her this time. Last time Dudley had pulled a stunt like that, (around 2 weeks ago he had claimed she punched him, but it was really just the kid he had been bullying at the time) she had gotten at least 10 smacks on her bottom and had been locked in her cupboard.

She held her arms out in front of her and carefully looked over them, turning to her sides, stomach, and legs. She reached around to poke at her back where she could reach. Nope; not a sore spot at all, except for her shoulders.. Etta tilted her head thoughtfully. _Huh._

"Maybe I've become a freak, and can heal myself?" She murmured, flexing her fingers again and twisting her wrists. Perhaps she simply read too many fantasy books, but Etta was now seriously considering the notion of being able to heal herself. She shook her head firmly. That thought had no business being thought in Number 4, Privet Drive. _Especially_ Number 4, Privet Drive. She rolled her shoulder and felt her muscles pinch around her shoulder blade. "Mm, doesn't mean I won't get bruises tomorrow. I hate weeding."

Etta laid down slowly, taking care to not knock her head on the thin shelf on the wall behind her. She, of course, misjudged her most recent growth spurt, and found herself hitting it anyway and hastily tried to swallow the need to choke as the millions of layers of dust uplifted and spread around the small cupboard. With a strangled noise she flipped over quickly and slammed her head into the ragged grey pillow and coughed as loud as she dared. It was too late in the evening to aggravate the wildebeests further.

As she lay there choking on the dust, she felt a dull ache begin in her lower back and she groaned, the pillow muffling the sound.

"_Nope,_ can't heal myself."

**WOW KIWI ANOTHER STORY SERIOUSLY?**

**...yes. 8C**

**Man, updates are going to be slow, they are going to be painful, and my beta (Monkey Typewriter /claps) is going to rage quit because of my lack of writing; BUT I WILL DO THIS STORY.**

**So it's a Harry AU, with Fem!Harry! I really didn't like any other options for a female version of the name Harry, but I searched variations for Harrietta, and Etta popped up so yee!**

**Um. Expect the next update within the next 5 months or so. No but seriously, expect a month for the next update.**

**So.**

**Uh.**

**Ta da!**

**Kiwi c:**


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